Black and White
by Seraphic Melody
Summary: Every man has two halves to his being; he is not one person so much as two persons trying to act in unison. -Joker-
1. Black

Disclaimer: I do not own the Kuni no Alice series or its characters. They all belong to the lovely Quinrose.

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**Black and White**

_Every man has two halves to his being; he is not __one person so much as two persons trying to act in unison. I believe __that in the heart of each human being there is something which I can __only describe as a "child of darkness" who is equal and complementary __to the more obvious "child of light." _

_**Black**_

If one were to ask if sharing a body was a pain, Black Joker would not deny it, but he would say sharing a body with White Joker bearable though.

They rarely fought and lived in the body quite peacefully. White would mostly take charge of the circus while Black mainly controlled the prison.

He never complained about the arrangement, and overall, found himself quite pleased with it. Black only enjoyed with dealing with those involved in his favorite hobbies – capturing and imprisoning those who broke the rules. He savored what little contact he had with people, grateful that White didn't mind him staying in mask form.

Black dreaded those rare times when they had to switch places – whether it was to appear in the flesh for only the heavens know why, or, as in this case, when White wanted to be in the prison for a little while.

"God damn that idiotic clown," Black growled irately under his breath. His whip tapped against the black fabric of his arm, forming a quick, annoyed staccato.

The circus around him was animate and bursting with life. Noise and miscellaneous chatter resonated from all around him. The circus nearly teemed with blinding colors and various equipment.

He did not understand how White tolerated something this maddening. His eyes felt as if they were burning. Blood surged into his skull, the incessant pounding growing more and more pronounced.

This was one reason why he loved staying in his prison. He relished the quiet serenity, the occasional clatter of metal, and the cold darkness of the penitentiary.

Here? He could barely hear himself think.

'_So friggin' annoying_,' Black Joker scowled. His red orb narrowed into a leer, sending fear into the hearts of two employees.

"What the hell are you two looking at?" he said with a slight growl. The whip cracked against his hand. "Stop gawking at me like the insignificant insects you are and get the hell back to work!"

The two faceless clowns jumped in fright, scrambling back to their posts.

Joker crossed his arms apathetically over his chest, repressing the urgent need to lash his ire out on a few other employees gawking at him. This happened every time he was in charge of the circus. Did it really matter he was there in place of their other superior? Did it matter he didn't want to change out of his prison uniform? That did not give _anyone_ the prerogative to place him under such close scrutiny.

Black Joker cast his gaze around the tent and strolled forward. Many of the circus employees hurried passed him; some quickly dropped their gazes and avoided eye contact. Black knew everyone feared him and found his presence intimidating. He did not waste his precious time on niceties and pleasantries like White. He was not one many would deem as 'nice' anyway. He didn't give a damn that he instilled an irrevocable fear into their poor souls. He gladly welcomed the distance.

The circus was a total bore in his eyes. There was nothing in this tent that could capture his attention.

…except one case.

He skidded to a halt, languidly raising his gaze to the high wire. A petite figure stood atop the tiny wooden platform. Black and white gloved hands were crossed over the soft brocade over her chest. White dust sparkled gently underneath the fluorescence, casting a phantasmal glow over her black and white striped costume.

'_The new girl…_' Black advanced to get a closer look.

He remembered when White had first brought her to the circus. She was nothing more than a reticent, faceless shell, completely despondent and silent. After White put her to work as the newest funambulist, Black had found himself rendered into a quiet awe. It was incredible how easily she walked up the wire, performing death-defying stunts that always made their audience swoon and scream.

And all without a safety net.

Watching her act was the only portion of the show that captured his attention, forcing him to watch it through its entirety.

She took a dainty step on the rope. A red brow arched as he watched her wobble forward, struggling to retain her balance.

'_How odd… never seen her like this even in her other practice sessions…_'

He continued watching in perplexed curiosity as the girl teetered violently on the shaking rope. She finally lost her bearings, descended down towards the floor… and landed conveniently into Black Joker's arms.

"J… J… Joker-sama!" the girl stuttered violently, a pink flush painting her pale cheeks as she stared into the warden's stolid face. "Th… thank you so much. I don't know what I would have…"

Her words were clipped by a surprised gasp when she was released onto the floor.

"What the friggin' hell was that crap? I've never seen you that careless before! Do you want to die?" shouted Black Joker harshly, his voice making the poor girl cringe and wither in shame.

She nervously wrapped her arms around her legs, dropping her eye-less gaze to the floor. "W… well… it's just I've n… never seen you in person before. Black Joker-sama is u… usually in mask form, and I g… got ner… nervous."

"But that is no excuse! White and I have the same damn face!" Joker rebuked. The young funambulist winced once more, burying her head between her knees as she awaited further reprimand. "…So stop being nervous. You've done this a thousand times, and my presence shouldn't affect your performance. Go and do it again."

The young girl snapped her head towards the Joker. His expression was still firm and stiff, but she swore his visage soften ever so slightly, his lips relaxed from its customary scowl.

She perked up and gracefully jumped to her feet. "Thanks so much, Joker-sama! I shall!"

Black Joker shrugged his shoulders and sighed, watching her dash forward, scale the long ladder, and begin crossing the rope again. He felt a satisfied smile tug at the corners of his lips. _'Much better._'

Her gaze descended down on his person for a singular moment. She stumbled slightly and quickly regained her composure, concentrating her attention on the rope.

'_Damn... that again? Why did she stumble? Why is her face so red?_' A sigh escaped the clown's lips, unable to understand the strange girl and dismissed those question from his mind.

"You're crazy! Really? _Him_? Of all people?"

Joker turned his attention towards the hushed voices, tuning his ears towards the direction of their conversation.

"I'm serious. Have you seen him? The prison warden is getting _soft_."

A whip cracked against the speaker's skull. The clown employee crumbled down to the ground, gingerly touching a steady stream of blood rolling down his cheek.

"What the friggin' hell did you say, you faceless bastard? Get this through your thick head. There is no freaking way I'm getting soft! I'm sorry if I want this crappy excuse of a show to be actually good!" The two faceless clowns blanched, rendered speechless as several other profanities flew from Joker's enraged lips. Once Joker was done verbally lashing them to a stupor, the two clowns ran off and rushed to blessed safety.

The prison warden released an annoyed breath, mumbling once more of his inconceivable hatred for the circus.

His gaze lifted upwards. She was now executing her first stunt. One hand firmly grasped onto the thin wire, gracefully lifting her both legs into the air as she retained her balance.

It was always a sight to behold. She nearly exuded confidence, her face deep in intense concentration, her body bending in graceful and elegant shapes...

Joker released a sharp breath, turned on his heels, and began to walk away.

Though he was supposed to be considered as the Black Joker, the darker and scarier one, perhaps there's more depth to him than what meets the eye...

'_Gah, what the hell am I thinking? Isn't that why I'm known as Black and he White?_' He roughly shook his head of such thoughts.

If life was as simple as black and white, he would be content in his prison walls, satisfied by the general fear he instilled.

But life was far more complex then that. There were so many hues and shades in between, complicating the image he worked so hard to build up.

He couldn't stop himself from glancing up at the tightrope, watching her transition to her second stunt, trying not to pay attention to the unprecedented warmth building in his chest...

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**A/N Notes**: (This mini story is an implied JokerOC)

I apologize if Joker is OoC. Like many people here, this is all my interpretation of his character.

And for this story, I read that Black Joker was the one to speak badly. Even though White is technically nicer, he's the actual evil one. So I was thinking if that's true, then Black musn't be _that_ evilly psychotic (though, to me, he still is.) So I tried portraying his character in a different way... and this first part was born.

...no idea how it turned out, but it's done. Stay tuned for part two!

Thanks for reading~


	2. White

**White**

The prison was always a stark contrast to the big top. While the tent was the epitome of color and life, the prison walls were flushed a dreary gray and shrouded with a haunting silence.

All was quiet, too quiet for his tastes. White Joker could only hear his footsteps echoing against the prison walls. Prisoner's feet scraped against the stone tiles, their animal masked heads hanging down in pure misery. Chains shuttered every time they moved.

"Why is atmosphere is so dismal here?" White exclaimed, nonchalantly sidling near a faceless jailor. "It's rather depressing if you ask me. I can't understand why Black Joker enjoys this place so much."

"J... Joker-sama!" The jailor's face drained of all color, taking a tentative step back from the crimson-haired ringmaster. "W... What are you doing here in the prison?" White smiled. The jailor immediately understood. "Oh... _Her_. Well then. Please follow me, sir."

The faceless jailor swiftly walked forward, Joker following his pace with elegant ease. A single wine red orb cast around his surroundings, assessing the overall dreariness with apathetic eyes.

White sighed, wishing Black listened to his cries for renovation. Black Joker was never one to pay attention to interior design and certainly didn't care about decorating this prison a bit more vibrantly. No wonder Black was so moody all the time!

His thoughts were derailed when the jailor halted, his metal keys clattering as he unlocked the door. The cell finally swung open with loud, ominous creak. White gave the jailor an appreciative nod, dismissing the faceless man from his midst.

Soon he was left all alone with his prisoner.

"Hello?" He called out from the cell's darkness. He paused, awaiting for a response.

"Go. The hell. Away," the voice said with a slight snarl, her words laced with venomous poison.

'_Looks like she's still alive after all._' His mouth curved to a wide smile as he waltzed through the threshold. His eyes easily adjusted to the dimness, extricating a female figure from its dark depths.

Long, winding scars circled every visible point of her tattered body. Her clothes were mere rags, stained with dry, black blood. She was seated on the floor, idly toying with the dark metal that restrained her from escape.

"Hello there, miss," the redhead said cheerfully. "Are you willing to cooperate with us now?"

"Cooperate?" The word barely escaped her lips. He would have almost believed it to be the wind. Small, dainty hands clasped around the chain, trembling with incomprehensible rage. "Cooperate with this!"

Joker almost didn't expect her to leap to her feet and fly her fist towards his face. _Almost_ being the operative word. The girl gasped in surprise, gaping to see her fist caught easily in his hand.

"My, my. No wonder he has such a hard time with you. The little birdie doesn't seem to know any manners." Her fragile bones cracked underneath his merciless fingers, forcing the girl to fall to her knees and stifle loud, painful cries.

"Now, I shall ask you again, and I expect a proper response." He roughly pulled the prisoner back to her feet and forced her to face him. Their noses nearly touched, his blood red eye fixated on her faceless countenance. "Are you going to cooperate now, or must I show you what else I do to insolent prisoners?"

The girl's ire suddenly dissipated from her systems as another emotion flooded into her face. Her mouth slacked. Her countenance faded to a phantasmal white.

"W... W... White Joker..."

Satisfied by her sedated state, Joker released her from his grasp. She stumbled back onto the floor, gingerly cradling her hand with shaking fingers.

For a fleeting moment, White almost thought he should be upset. How could that girl confuse him for his unrefined counterpart? Their personalities were so distinct that it shouldn't even make a difference they look alike.

Then came beautiful clarity.

Of course, she would have been expecting the crude speaking warden. Black was in charge of interrogating this young lady, using any means he deemed necessary. It only made sense she expected to see him instead of the circus clown.

White only briefly stepped in to take Black's place when Black was growing impatient and was tempted to kill her. Even though they were nowhere near a resolution, it seemed too early to end her life when she still held so much information.

Every time he stepped into the prison and took his turn speaking to her, she seemed to lack her original vivacity, the fire in her eyes. Everything would fall into complete silence.

"Miss, why ever so quiet? Black always complains about that little mouth of yours," White spoke softly, taking a step closer towards her. The faceless girl scooted back, pressing her back into the cold, cell wall. "Why so silent?"

The girl's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She dragged air into her breathless lungs and replied quietly, "Because White Joker is scarier than Black Joker."

Such a response obtained Joker's full attention, as well as his amusement.

"Me? Scary? Really?" He laughed at the very notion. "Dear, after all those few, rare days we've been together, I've struck you as a frightening person? That's the very last thing I've wanted to do. I don't want you afraid of me."

Her whole body fell completely still when Joker knelt down beside her, his mouth curved to a bright, friendly smile. She did not relax her guard, not naive enough to be taken by such a pleasant facade.

Upon noticing this, Joker sighed and swept his gaze over her person.

The girl was quite the specimen - a specimen indeed. Though riddled with scars, damaged by Black's cruel methods, there was no denying her subtle beauty. It was almost a shame to see something so lovely so broken.

"I don't think I should be the one whom you should be afraid of," he drawled in a calm, rich voice. "I'm not the one who tortured you, beaten so cruelly to get the truth we want. I've never laid a single hand on you, have I?"

A small, curved knife suddenly appeared in Joker's hand. The cool, untainted blade followed the delicate curve down her cheek and to her arm. It barely pierced flesh, but it was enough to open her past wounds and draw blood. The girl's lips tightened to a thin line, trying her hardest not to cry out in pain.

"I can stop all this suffering." White was suddenly right over her, gently holding her face with his free hand. His molten scarlet orbs were gleaming with such softness... and something more dangerous.

Her breath became heavy and laborious. She felt almost weak at his touch, spellbound by his gaze. Her clock heart ticked loudly in her chest. Satisfied by her frazzled state, he leaned in to close what little distance remained between them. "You just have to tell me one simple thing..."

And his lips crashed onto hers, releasing all air from her lungs. He easily penetrated through her defenses and was inside her, tasting every amount of sweetness that was hidden within. With each touch, with each breath, he felt herself submit to the desire, falling limp and pliant in his hands.

White pulled back, his breath mingling with her own. "Who else was part of the conspiracy against the Jokers?"

The answer came much quicker than he hoped or expected. "No matter what you or Black Joker do to me, I refuse to say anything. I'd much rather die than betray those closest to me."

White was taken aback by such a response, underestimating her adamancy and will. Though weak and enervated of all her strength, she still stood before him with unwavering resolve, defiant even.

White sighed desolately at the thought and pressed his forehead against hers. He could not wrap his head around it. The answer they wanted was so simple, as simple as black and white, and yet she _still_ refused to answer.

White Joker could only do one thing.

His mouth curved into a gentle smile. "It's such a shame. I'd love to spend more time with such a lovely lady as you, but I have other business to attend to."

A husky breath flew from her lips. Her body slowly fell into his arms and became very still.

Joker lifted his bloody blade from her back, watching warm rivulets of blood stream down onto his prison floor. He dropped her dead body and shook his head in disappointment. "Tsk. Tsk. What a loss... This all could have been avoided if only you'd cooperate with me…"

That was the true reason why they switched. Black Joker's methods of homicide were far too long and brutal. Torturing someone to death was Black's favorite method after all.

White's preferences were always faster and simpler. Perhaps, for that very reason, he was the one many feared. He was one to kill a person without a single warning, silencing them in the quickest way possible.

'_I suppose that's why we share the same body._'

They were to two halves bound together to make a whole person. It even took White to come to the realization that they completed each other, temper each other's rather unstable personalities.

Though Black was considered as the darker of the two, it was White who was more sinister, more malevolent than his seeming kindness made him appear.

What would happen if either one of these two individuals were missing?

"Time to go back to the circus..." White Joker looked down after he finished cleaning off his blade, noticing a droplet of scarlet on his finger. He slowly brought it to his lips and licked it clean. Then Joker smiled with his usual conviviality and began walking forward.

'_All hell would surely break lose._'

_Darkness cannot exist by itself; it can exist only when it is supported by light. Contrariwise, there can be no light without darkness._

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**A/N Notes**: Phew. That's done!

I just noticed something. This section finally reached about over 60 stories... Sweet! Let's try to reach 100 stories, shall we?

Thanks for reading~


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